


Baby, Baby, Just Trust Me

by NowWeOwnTheNight



Series: Haikyuu!! AUs [12]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assassin!AU, Demon AU, Demons, M/M, Spy!AU, Wootwoot, [also angels but sh], [asahi just wants his angel to kill him], and people can only be reincarnated when their partner Soul[s] are rejoined, asahi just wants to die, basically all rolled in to one, bc then our lil prince of death n darkness appears, everyone except for kyohaba r supposed to be enemies but lolololol no, i guess ?, iwaizumi as a techie for the bad guys honestly thats so, most of these are referenced/implied, oh yeah and the world basically runs off of the power of dead people's Souls, sawamura -fuck.. double fuck!!- daichi, so .., suga in a hotass dress w a corset and stiletto heels and a choker enD ME, suga is basically the badass of the story but is only really focused on in the first half, well okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8996401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowWeOwnTheNight/pseuds/NowWeOwnTheNight
Summary: The world was never supposed to be this way- run by the split parts of Souls in different humans, the energy burnt straining for its other pieces fuelling the spinning planet from within.This upset in nature has formed a growth of a dark flipped side under the crust, filled with the cities long buried, with the civilisations of the ages, with the dead and their Souls; worked to power the Earth and keep it from falling to pieces. All partnerships, all logic, all stable courses of time have been ripped apart because of a simple love between an Angel and a Demon.Together, this pair live to keep their love alive beyond the boundaries of death. Together, they take the Souls of humanity and use it to create Phases in life where rebirth and death balance precariously on the edge of oblivion. They chase one another endlessly over the spans of centuries, all to be reunited.And, eons on, an unbearably long Phase cycle causes ridiculous amounts of equally as ridiculous trickeries between a Spy Agency and an Assassin Ring.





	1. Mouth Is Made Of Metal

**Author's Note:**

> FAR OUT so the summary is a shitfight but .. it works ? kinda  
> idk i just have a lot of feels
> 
> this was super-heavily influenced by songs, so here’s a list if you’re interested/want something to listen to while reading. I made a playlist on youtube \\(★ω★)/ if u want it !  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqYZaE67lhR-Hb3sIfWQrqO71RUFo-Jnt

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“Stakeout is _boring_.”

Tsukishima ignores him, instead pointing in to the crowd below them. A cloud of gold clouds and trails the human he’d marked- newly arrived to the event, dull but not too inconspicuous in the sea of autumn gowns and flashing, well-pressed tuxedos. From up on the balcony, the human is any other uninteresting fish in the sea of the living, weaving his way through this life’s Phase for whatever purpose the mind can come up with this time. Money, staying true, finding love, building a house, building an empire- Tsukishima knows them all; he’s seen them all, now that he’s returned to the place only the dead can go.

The effort to keep himself present is low on him, yet the world continues to weaken the longer the Phase goes. Lamps flicker with the energy draining from his surroundings, patching them in yellow and black as the light bulbs struggle behind their fancy shades to remain on in his presence.

“That’s the one, Kunimi. Silver hair, split dress.”

“… Thought the dark-haired one would be with them again.”

“Who cares about the dark-haired one, they all look the same- I can tell it’s them. _They’re_ the one. Keep them off Daichi.”

“Whatever.” Kunimi growls, rubbing at the base of his horns to keep himself from saying something dumb- waiting until Tsukishima has faded into nothingness to let it out: “I _like_ the dark-haired one. They’re cute.”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

By the time Sugawara arrives, the party is in full swing. Cars have been lined along the square by valets, the polished paintjobs and windshields glittering under the clear night sky. Grand on the top of the hill, the Ushijima Estate blares with activity. He can’t even recall what the event is _for_ when he’s granted entry at the front doors, bowed at and stood aside for in the ostentatious archway, massive oak doors held open against a breeze by two potted plants that stand nearly as tall as he does, even on the heels. Only, of _course_ Sugawara remembers the plan of this party. It’s part of his job, tonight.

 _“Lookin’ hot, Sumo. Give us a twirl?”_ His concealed earpiece crackles to life, and Suga remembers to breathe out, feeling his stress melt away. Glancing over his shoulder, he catches Hanamaki’s wink as he’s smoothing his extravagant valet jacket down- Yahaba is in security gear a few steps down, heading out to walk their perimeter. Sugawara dares to watch long enough that he sees them make a motion they’ve developed- a sign with the meaning a high-five, something they can perform without visibly interacting. It relaxes him even more into his role, seeing his team collected and calm, ready for action even if his co-workers are sometimes-too-playful idiots.

He’s done shit like this hundreds of times- how is this one any different?

In the back of his mind, he _knows_ it’s different; he’s just not sure whether he’s ready to believe Oikawa’s theory.

Maybe it was the sight of the hall’s insides that had thrown him out. Nobles are off-their-rocks drunk, shareholders buttered up with whisky pouring like water and wonderment at the high ceilings decorated to imitate the beauty of the season. Suga himself is dressed in an ankle-length pastel red dress- almost pinkish in the glow of the chandeliers -with a split at the side, blotched with muted orange accents. The black corset, lace trimmings, and patterning that bleeds in to the skirt helps tone down the outfit’s attention-grabbing brightness. His footsteps tick, lost in the loud music and louder voices, and his soft greetings, congratulations, and comments are generally overlooked in the circles he passes, steadily making his way to the back bar. A pair of black high heels and a thick black velvet choker to match; he catches the eye of very few, considerably underdressed in such an event. Nonetheless, attention on him or not, he feels every bit as high-class and ‘swooshy’- a now overused adjective Kyotani had picked out from Oikawa’s mission detail -as his part is to play in tonight’s reconnaissance mission.

“Sorry, Kanto,” Sugawara whispers to his earpiece, the codename coming to him easy as breathing, “No show from me, tonight.”

_“Aw, but you looked so good on that pole.”_

“Focus. How’re we doing?” He asks; calling out to the bartender for a drink he has no intention to touch, despite it being a mocktail.

 _“Sorry.”_ Waving a hand in front of his face, a sign in the retinal camera for Kindaichi to get on with it, Suga spins on his barstool and looks out into the crowds. He allows his eyes to scan over every corner of the room. _“Osaka did say he wanted this to be a quick job, didn’t he?”_ He looks down and taps a finger on his thigh: twice for yes. _“Right. I haven’t spotted your mark, yet. Go for a walk, I’ll buzz you when I spot him.”_

“On it.” He snatches his drink, nodding to the bartender in thanks. “Kazi?”

_“Try a corner- he’ll be on with Osaka.”_

“For a Second, he-”

_“Osaka said he’s a ‘just in case of ’ and you know he’s no me- no one’s as good as us, babe, now get out there.”_

Sugawara shrugs in to his drink when he pretends to sip, scowling at the way the dress drags the figure-adding pads against his chest every time he moves his shoulders. He briefly wonders where all Kindaichi’s confidence comes from whenever he’s put on comms. _Babe? Really?_ _Well, it’s better than Makki and his incessant fucking memes_ , and Suga nearly laughs at himself as he’s pushing away from the bar, taking to the hall in search of Kyotani. As Suga’s Second tonight, he’d usually be following him around, backing him up, drawing attention from him. Suga much prefers Kindaichi as his Second on missions like this- their teamwork is unparalleled in their division despite Kindaichi not being an official part of the Spy network. The man- hardly a man, he’s closer to a _boy_ –works under Oikawa’s team in an independently run company named Private Intel Agency. Oikawa heads the Detective subsection, whereas Sugawara runs the Spies.

The only reason why Kyotani, a detective on the same tier as Kindaichi, was put ‘On The Floor’ tonight is because everyone else has a hand in tonight’s mission. That, and their Boss personally filled Oikawa out on the work tonight, stressing the need for additional backup. They’d argued over it- Sugawara and Oikawa –on who to put in the fray and who to keep on the down-low for backup, coming to the conclusion that although Kyotani is _not_ a good mixer, he’s the most informed on their targets tonight and would prove most useful in close quarters.

Once Suga spots Kyotani, it’s obvious to him how uncomfortable the Detective is in this situation. On the phone, he knows Kyotani is updating Oikawa, doing intelligence on the guests he observes, and managing onsite operations. Suga presses at the loop on his bracelet that will connect him to the man’s feed, making sure his eyes don’t slip back over in the direction of his Second for too long.

“Feelin’ good, Kazi?”

Kyotani straightens up ever so slightly, head lazily turning while his eyes flicker to check over the room. They make eye contact for the briefest second, and Kyotani scowls in his direction as he stuffs more canapés into his mouth, using the hand to cover as he replies.

_“Got your back, you going yet?”_

“You heard- just a walk-about. May need it soon.”

_“Give me a buzz and I’m on you.”_

Suga walks on.

Those deep-fried nibbles Kyotani had been vacuuming into his mouth looked pretty decent, so he uses it as an excuse to wander in the direction of the food. It’s hard to stifle a playful smile when Kageyama bends down to him- Suga’s got high-heels on and the man _still_ towers over him –and offers a beverage from his waiters tray. Sugawara politely declines and continues on his way, presses the bracelet charm for Kageyama’s line.

“Cute suit, Kage.”

_“Hmf, thanks- excuse me, sir would you like some…”_

He cuts off the communication, leaving Kageyama to it. There’s a familiar prickle on his left eye as words dot across the top-left of his vision. And, as always, he’s impressed with Kageyama’s pain concealing abilities: balancing a flat tray filled with fancy flutes of champagne whilst suffering through the electric currents running over his eyeball.

_‘4 R HERE’_

Kyotani’s update is red, meaning everyone has seen it- probably implying that Oikawa felt the need for all of the team onsite tonight to know. Tacking it up to paranoia, Suga hums under the pretense of admiring the lights: “Osaka’s pretty worried, huh?”

 _“You should see his face, right now.”_ Kindaichi mumbles back. _“He looks constipated- ow- ouch, the fuck? Hey, Sumo… Did you know he can listen to three conversations at once? My boss is awesome and I love him, and I’m very sorry for calling him constipated- yow- fuck- I won’t say it again, stop hitting me.”_

“Your mistakes are your own.” Suga laughs, hearing Oikawa’s insane muttering in the period of silence between his voice’s echo on the feed and the automatic noise cut-off.

He’s absently scanning the crowd, lifting a prawn to his mouth and reaching for a second- the earpiece crackles to life.

_“There- that’s him!”_

It takes _everything_ Suga has in him- all his years of trainings and practical work and operations to date –to not jump and start immediately swearing back at Kindaichi, scolding him for shouting through the wires designed for low-level chatter. Reading his mind, Kindaichi gasps down their connection, sending a shudder through Sugawara’s spine. He suppresses yet another jolt. _“Shit, sorry- sorry-”_

“Which. One.” He grits out, his hand used to hide his words, and then the prawn he chews on a little too loudly in petty retribution.

_“Ice statue. Short dark hair, green tie. Is giving the blonde lady some major Fuck Me eyes- oh, great, now he’s giving you the Fuck Me eyes. Do you think that’s just his default expression, or- ah, right, I’ll stop... Just- be careful... I’ll buzz Kazi for you…”_

As much as Suga would love to slap his ear to shock Kindaichi in to shutting up, his mark’s _dark_ eyes are on him, now.

_Daichi Sawamura._

He recognizes the female beside Sawamura as one from Daichi’s circle- _Yachi Hitoka_ –and the boy with grey hair- _Tanaka Ryuunosuke_ -who wanders up casually, seemingly un-cued, taking her arm and leading her away as Daichi wanders in the opposite direction from Suga.

“I’m in pursuit.” He mutters, subtly pressing the bracelet for the general channel. “Mochi, Hana- cover the doors. Kage, put your tray down and meet me out back. Kazi, get on me, _now_ … Come in? Kazi? Respond.”

A faint buzz of electricity, no whines and pitches of wavelengths, and it dawns on him.

The line is dead.

“Come in…” He releases the button, cursing to himself. “Kanto? Come _in_. _Come in_ , Kanto. _Kanto- Ki-_ shit.” Still nothing, a near slip-up with Kindaichi’s name, and now Suga is losing sight of his mark. “ _Shit_.” Internally repeating to stay unruffled, he presses on, eyes locked on those broad shoulders and neat hairline. The suit is plain, simple and black, easy to lose among the predominantly male crowd surrounding the drinks and food.

His eye twitches with pain.

_‘SUM1 ON ME.’_

_‘THEY HACKED THRU 2 BASE. COMPROMISED.’_

Sawamura evades him in the dance floor, slipping between bodies like an eel in rocks, leaving him stranded in the midst of the shaking floor and stamping feet. A break in the movements, a pause in the music, and _there’s_ Daichi, creeping through a door on the far side of the dance floor. Another dark-haired man is making his way purposefully towards Sugawara, evidently headed in his direction in the beats of a new song starting. He recognizes him instantly.

 _Matsukawa Issei- possibly the most dangerous of the lot._ Sliding his way through the dancing partiers, suddenly the one being pursued, his eye itches one last time.

_‘GET OUT.’_

“Yeah, no shit…”

Kyotani is gone when he passes the corner, and Kageyama is nowhere to be seen- Matsukawa Issei, however, is making small-talk near the main door with a large group; he occasionally sways in Suga’s direction, mostly staying faced in the direction of the exit. “Keep your cool… Come on, you’ve done this a thousand fuckin’ times…” He mutters, recalling the plans of the Ushijima Mansion. There is one main door for the party- covered by Matsukawa -and two doors for bathrooms on either side of the main hall. Along with the main hall, two dining rooms on both sides are accessible by swinging panels for guests but don’t lead anywhere other than the toilets. The staff entrance is his last option, down the south of the building at the back of the music booth- reminding himself that it was the one Daichi had gone through, Suga’s heart skips in his chest.

He is utterly, wholly _trapped_ , unless he can figure out a way to break out of the bathrooms and in to the mansion’s halls. Even then, with Daichi, Tanaka, and Yachi MIA, Matsukawa with a lock on his location, he’s unsure how that plan would go in comparison to making a run for it out the front. Chances of his team hanging back for him with Abort orders are slim. If their comms are down, that means Kyotani had been spotted- and with a finger in Base’s data it’s possible that the hacker could be tracking them, consequently landing the team in Hot Water.

By Hot Water, he means certain death.

This group- they do _not_ mess around. They don’t even have a _name_ they operate under. Someone threatens them, and they take them out quick, fast, silent. Worse still, an actual Agency after them could provoke them in to more than mere ‘silencing’, but Sugawara can’t focus too much on the possibility of his team being dead or worse right at the moment.

In sliding his gaze this way and that, a familiar face has taken his fancy.

_Speaking of comms, I think I just found our man…_

And in this case, _familiar_ is a code word for the identity report photographs he’d spent hours obsessing over with Oikawa, months ago, as they were first struggling to piece together this Assassin Ring headed by Sawamura Daichi.

_Iwaizumi Hajime._

_Intelligence._

Iwaizumi looks away, looks back, and there’s no mistaking: he _panics_. He’s gabbling fast into what must be his earpiece, seeing as he’s standing apart from the crowds. With one last darting glance to Matsukawa, Suga makes for Iwaizumi. He watches the short man turn and speed-walk away, push through a low panel door that leads in to a no less crowded yet far quieter space compared to the main hall. Quashing down the potentials of this being a trap, he crouches as far as he can whilst being subtle- on _heels_ , and of all his choices to regret, it _can’t_ be the stilettos –and heads that way.

Suga jumps when his earpiece hisses, sputtering to life. It’s a whirring connection that drops out every few seconds. A hand-held. He must be off-site by now. On foot. _God knows what happened to the rest,_ Suga thinks, _if our intel is on the run and not in the getaway car-_

 _“Sumo-_ ” It’s Kyotani- panting, wind scrambling the earpiece with static. He’s running. _“I scrambled their comms! Now, get out of there! Osaka says that’s an order from Nano!”_

_Our Boss is in on this? Fuck… If I leave now, I’ll have nothing…_

“I’ve got one- give me five-”

_“No- Sumo, don’t-”_

Disabling the channel, Sugawara ducks through the worst of the crowd near the panel door and takes off at a brisk strut down the pristine, lushly carpeted dining hall after Iwaizumi. His dress swishes lavishly around his legs, head high and shoulders back, playing the part with resolve and desperation now more than ever. His time window he has of being caught up with by this man’s ‘friends’ is shortening by the second.

This could be the only chance he has to salvage their mission.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

_“Daichi, he’s on to you.”_

“Stay calm.” Daichi orders, keeping his eyes resolutely on Yachi for a few moments before allowing them to go over the room. He spots the Spy so fast his head hurts.

 _“Daichi…”_ Iwaizumi’s voice comes through his earpiece, and Daichi can tell his hands are shaking on that tablet he’s cradling as he swipes every which-way through the P.I.A databank, pulling files onto his own device and erasing datastores. In a corner of his screen, he’ll have their team’s locations in the Ushijima Mansion, the map paired with the Spies ones he’d hacked. Fighting to keep his eyes down, scared of being left alone in the hall without Daichi nearby, Iwaizumi will be comforting himself in the blips of colour on his GPS and scrolls faster through the Head’s archives. _“I can’t find the files on our guys. What do I do?”_

“Tanaka, get Yachi. Keep to the plan.”

“Coming.” Tanaka’s response is immediate, both in his voice and in his appearance at Yachi’s side, interrupting their meaningless conversation on stocks and indicating away from Daichi. Together they walk off, but he knows- Daichi _knows_ getting her out of the way will be meaningless.

They’re already all over him, have been for weeks.

He focuses back on the Spy.

_Fuck, and it’s that Silver one, too._

And beyond that, there’s Blue-Eyes: the one he’d put Tanaka on when they first arrived, and is now handing Matsukawa a champagne glass with a tight smile.

_“Mattsun, keep eyes on Daichi. Leave Blue-eyes, Tanaka and Yachi can handle the rest.”_

_“Thank-you very much for this!”_ Turning away from Blue-Eyes, a hand to the lowest button of his three-piece suit jacket, Matsukawa puts the champagne to his mouth. He doesn’t drink it, even without Daichi having to remind him this time. _“On Daichi, you say, Iwa? Sure thing, my guy.”_

A little to the left, in the corner, is The Dog- staring him dead in the eye before following his lines of sight: flickering to Matsukawa, and then onwards to Iwaizumi against the wall.

_Double fuck. They’re everywhere._

_“Okay.”_ Iwaizumi whispers. _“I’m blocking them… Now. Go.”_

Turning on his heel, Daichi follows his pre-planned route, nodding along when Iwaizumi rattles off his own planning to him.

_“He’s after you. Get to the dance floor, then out the back. I’ll get Mattsun to distract him, use the staff exit and intercept Blue-Eyes if you can but otherwise, get the hell out of there…”_

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-


	2. Take Me Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im fastforwarding this crap to meet my deadline because in a few days i'll be at the coast and sadly out of internet range =[   
> [damn i really gotta get those yoi fics downloaded like . now .]  
> so \o/ look forward to a finished fic by tomorrow morning

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

“Shit- where’s Mattsun with that fucking-” Silver’s eyes are on him- unsure how to respond, Iwaizumi freaks out. “He’s on to me- he’s- Daichi what do I do? What do I do, what do-”

_“Get out of the room- get out of sight, don’t let him catch up to you. I’m coming. Just bring him out of the party, West Wing, I’ll deal with him there- just-”_

Daichi’s voice goes out in a blip, his earpiece crunching for a moment before fading _entirely_. His screen is next- the window he’d had on P.I.A freezing.

“Daichi?! Daichi…”

Silver is fast approaching. Iwaizumi turns tail and flees to the nearest wall, hurrying through a door. There is no way he can circle around and get to the West Wing, not like this, not without Matsukawa to help him, or Daichi to-

“Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” He curses, his mind making up the click of Silver’s heels when they disappear from behind him and become dull thumps on the carpet, “Fuck- fuck- fuck-”

“Excuse me?” A bright, beautiful voice sings from his back, the hand on his shoulder digging in sharp. “Could you help me?”

Iwaizumi turns to meet Silver’s eye.

First he thinks: _wow, not a chick._

Then: _I. Am… So…_

A pause, a lapse in which he feels his lungs burrow in and evaporate.

And then: … _Dead._

“With what, ma’am?” His voice doesn’t shake, but his entire body shudders when Silver takes a step closer to him, dress-clad leg brushing up between his thighs.

“This way.”

Silver all but drags Iwaizumi’s numb body through the bathrooms and out into the deserted halls of the Ushijima Mansion, his soul ascended and his brain mush.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“I’m going to ask you again, and this time I’m not being _nice_.” Suga tells him, stepping over Matsukawa’s neutralized body to get to Iwaizumi.

This time, he forgoes his orders to leave no mark and slams Iwaizumi against the snow-white wall of the hallway. There’s already a body on the floor. Sugawara can safely say he’s broken a majority of this mission’s rules already, such as _Do Not Engage At All Costs_ , and _Stay In Sight_ , and _When I Tell You To Leave You Fucking Leave, Koushi, For Gods Sake Listen To Me Just This Once, Please._ Sighing at the lecture he’s sure to get from Oikawa when he returns- _if_ he gets out of this alive –Sugawara throws his target to the other side of the corridor, the picture frame hanging there falling and suffering a thousand spider-web thin cracks over the ancient-looking painting’s surface. “ _What_ files did you take?”

He pins Iwaizumi in the free space of the wall and is just about to start twisting arms and popping joints when a fast-flying elbow hooks him in the chin, followed by a solid right hook to the face.

“ _Hard_ way.” Iwaizumi grunts, and all of a sudden Suga is the one pressed to the wall. “I’m not telling you _anything_.”

“I already know you lot. We could take you down if we wanted, but I’ve been told there’s _something_ _else_ going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“ _Rookie_ mistake, opening with denial-”

“So help me, I’m just _Intelligence_ -”

“One would think you’d _be intelligent-_ ” Iwaizumi’s fist draws back and jabs his nose lightning fast, leaving Sugawara spitting, reeling. “Ah, _just_ Intelligence my ass!”

“I know how to fight- I work with assassins. So are you going to go without a fuss, or are you going to keep pressing? Because I can promise you,” Iwaizumi smiles up at him, Suga refuses to respond to the threat, “It will _not_ end well.”

“Contrary to what you may think, I’m not thrown by big muscles or big talk, especially not your pathetic excuse of intimidation. Now, what files did you steal?”

Suga knees Iwaizumi in the center of his chest, his heels giving him an extra foot on the man. Said heels help in kicking his enemy into the opposite wall of the hallway, giving Suga reason to smirk upon hearing the wince when the stiletto point stabs in to his skin.

_Knew I picked these for a reason…_

Suga makes a show of dusting his hands and fixing the chest piece of his dress, analyzing Iwaizumi’s weakened stance, the blood blooming on his white dress shirt that has been ripped open in their fighting, and the body of his colleague knocked out on the ground. _For a renowned assassin, he goes down like a brick and has a soft spot for cross-dresses, who would’ve guessed it…_ “ _Who_ are those files for- let me know _who_ you have dealings with, and you _know_ who I mean- give me a name, an organization, _anything_ , and I will let you go.”

Iwaizumi glowers at him, making no move towards Sugawara. They stand in a stalemate that’s spent sizing one another up- Suga’s heart is in his throat out of pure adrenalin alone by the time Iwaizumi speaks, and his body is tingling and tense, fully ready for another match.

“… Back off _now_ , while you and your precious little pawns still have the chance.”

Abruptly, Iwaizumi _disappears_.

A blaze of black light- if such a thing is possible –stuns him as it thunders through the hallway, flickering the lights on and off wildly. In the haze of pain he’s been trained to fight through, Sugawara lunges for Iwaizumi and the tall, darkly figure whom the darkness clings to like a shroud. He’s left charging face-first into the wall as they vanish, taking the buzz of fluctuating light bulbs with them.

“Fuck.” He spits around a mouthful of blood, feeling along his teeth with his tongue for missing teeth.

The sound of someone echoing his swear has him on his feet and bolting to the south side of the house without a second glance.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“ _Double fuck_.” Daichi huffs, fraught and struggling to keep up with Silver as she races away at breakneck pace… _On stiletto heels. What a woman._

Their dash down the hallway turns in to a maze of stairways and pillars as they descend to the lower level of the house, set down in the decline of the hill, designed more as a museum and for hosting quieter functions than the revelry upstairs. Silver takes a shortcut, sliding down the bannister, taking back the meters Daichi gained on her; dodging around deserted handcarts in the hallways while Daichi vaulted over them.

“Tanaka, come in!”

_“Sup, boss?”_

“Get to the south-”

_“Huh?! Shit, what’s-”_

Silver’s heels clack soundly on the marble of yet _another_ grand ballroom. Daichi growls at the noise.

“Silver! She’s getting away!”

Guessing her plan, making a risky maneuver, he ducks down a row of pillars along the right side of the hall and barges through a door, turning left and sprinting through the deserted back-of-house. He skids around a corner just in time to see Silver shove through the door of the ballroom and rapidly spin back the way she came.

_“Well shit, boss, the rest of ‘em have fucking vanished, too.”_

“Get down here and help me, I have eyes on the fucker!” Daichi races for the door; pushed on by the certainty he can catch her.

_“On our way.”_

He bursts back out into the spacious room- for the first time in his life, Daichi is so wrapped up in the hunt that he forgets the basic ‘never enter a room without checking, even if you’d been in it seconds ago’.

A strong arm bars his way at perfectly measured neck height, hooking as he chokes and stumbles, supporting his weight as if he’s made of feathers, slamming him down into the polished, cold marble flooring. Daichi’s too stunned by his own stupidity and _fuck, this woman just outplayed me and has taken me down_ to fight back the large, strong hand encircling his wrists and pulling them over his head; the solid weight settling on his chest, the _carved_ thighs clamping around his waist when he tries to buck her off-

Him.

Glaring down at him are the wing-eyeliner eyes of a nemesis that could mean the end of his business, pinning him is the strength of years of training. Daichi doesn’t know _what_ he could be in for: whether Silver has weapons on him, or whether he plans to just choke him out or snap his neck, or whether he’s going to try and take him alive for interrogation, or-

“Sorry, I just _have_ to get these things off.” Silver snarls down at him, using his free hand to hook into the leather straps of _his_ \- _his, his, his_ –shoes, tossing the stilettos towards the doorway. “Sorry about Issei, too- _ah_ , yes, and this…” A hand comes down and plucks around his ear, flawlessly finding the points of the concealed earpiece- those long, thin fingers trail along his cheek before poking roughly in to his mouth for the microphone.

Daichi’s the kind of man who takes his chances where he sees them- yet, Silver is fast. Faster than him, faster than anyone he’s ever encountered.

 _Fuck_ , is it exhilarating.

Silver releases his wrists and uses the hand to wrench Daichi’s jaw open, making quick work of the microphone. Daichi brings his hands down on Silver’s back, clawing at his shoulders, gripping at the tight corset to pull him off. In his ears, ringing under the shock and adrenaline, _“Daichi, come in, Daichi, are you okay?! Daichi’_ , and then Silver’s hands are grappling with his, trying to force them back down to the floor at his sides. He rolls his aching jaw, breathes in to yell back to Tanaka and Yachi.

His skull _bangs_ with the impact, teeth snapping excruciatingly. In leaning up to head-butt Daichi’s chin, Silver has given some of his precious weight to his arms where they hold Daichi’s down. Using his feet as leverage, Daichi kicks off the floor and flips backwards over their head, Silver’s center of gravity unable to fight back. He lands on top of the Spy, unprepared for the instant retaliation. There are elbows everywhere, knees jerking up, and in all the struggle, Silver gets a bare foot planted in Daichi’s stomach and kicks him aside, the sudden freeness from another body providing him a boost to find his feet.

He coughs once, twice, darts out of Daichi’s reach and lands a hard kick to his chest, sending him back down again. Hands slip in a spattered, growing pool of blood in the center of the spotless ballroom’s white marble center.

“Fuck,” Silver breathes for the mic in a perfect imitation of Daichi. The Assassin is left gaping, his breaths coming wet and mouth gone tingly, cotton-stuffed, “I lost him.”

Daichi can’t hear the response, but he knows what Tanaka will be saying.

_“That’s rough- expected, though. The caliber these guys work at is next level... You did your best, Daichi. Meet up out front?”_

“Yeah… Give me a few,” He’s scrambling to get to his feet, mouth working around a steady flow of blood. The outside of Silver’s bare foot cracks in to his jaw, coming to rest in the middle of his shoulders, “I’m gonna _poke_ around a bit.”

_“You okay? I’m sure it’d be fine to call it, boss, we got our job done, I don’t think any of ‘em got the drink-”_

“Meet up in ten.” And without further ado, Silver snaps the wire from the microphone, tucking it into the middle of his corset. He plants a knee in place of his foot and swiftly descends on top of him, dress flaring out and floating down. His wrists are bound in one of Silver’s hands once more. The man on his back tips forward, hanging upside down in the top edge of his vision for a moment before taking his chin in his free hand and tilting his head up, forcing them to meet eyes. “Wouldn’t happen to have time for a little chat?”

“Get _fucked_.”

“How about _you_ get fucked?”

“Can’t, exactly-” The hand around his jaw tightens for a moment, pushing in to the already bruised bone, making him gasp as prickles of pain burst along his jawline.

“Do you realise the seriousness of your situation yet, Sawamura Daichi?” Silver squirms decisively on his back, his tone light, playful, _terrifying_.

“Don’t-”

“If we switch places, would you be more amenable to questioning?”

“I’m not answering _any_ query you have for me, so.” Daichi snickers; shrugging as well as he can in his current situation. He grits his teeth when Silver’s hand claws in again, this time on his wrists as well. “Guess you’ll have to kill me.”

“Shame…” Now, Silver’s knee slides off and he sits fully on Daichi’s lower back. Daichi struggles but, to his dismay, is helpless with his arms pinned behind his back. His body tenses, making him aware of every single injury he’s acquired during the night- Silver’s hot breath is hitting the back of his ear in measured puffs, “Would be such a waste. I’ve never met someone who could keep up with me so _well_.”

All Daichi’s able to do is gasp, left tantalizingly on the brink as the weight shifts above him- hand moving from jaw to throat, applying the barest pressure there as well as on his wrists, puling him up, up- on to his feet, standing back to chest in the dead center of the ballroom.

He shifts his weight sharply to one leg, and Silver matches his movement, just as quickly ripping Daichi’s arms to the side he’s trying to free up for a kick and forcing him to put it back down to save himself from falling. His air comes thinner as Silver’s hand clamps around his windpipe, forcing Daichi to lean back against him more, rely his weight on him _more_ , to the point where his head is tilted back towards the high arches of the ceiling, panting in shallow, short breaths. Silver chuckles low and deep at him.

“For an Assassin, you’re…”

The implication hanging on the end of his words is enough to work him up, boil his blood down to a workable pace, stun him out of his astonishment.

And still, _still_ \- shoving full force backwards into Silver’s chest, spinning when Silver’s hands come away and reach behind to catch the fall and getting a good grip on the slimy Spy’s shoulders- Daichi’s playing right in to Silver’s hands.

Silver’s hands hit the ground, cushioning his fall for a fleeting instant before reaching up for Daichi’s neck- a short blade gripped in his right hand –counting on the down-swing of Daichi’s upper body to take the weight off his lower half, Silver’s legs come up and lock around Daichi’s hips. Any leg movement Daichi may’ve hoped to use is blocked, and although he’s pinning Silver’s shoulders into their mess of crimson, there’s a knife’s edge at his pulse point.

“Agent Sumo. But you, dear sir, may call me Sugawara Koushi.” Sugawara bats his eyes up at him and digs a heel into his tailbone, a painful reminder to Daichi of _who_ exactly has the upper hand, here. “You’ll be done in a few days, and Iwaizumi probably has all our files, so you’d have found out anyway. Not that it’ll matter- you lot having our faces, and so on. You’re going _down_.”

“Oh, just you _try_ it.” Daichi breathes in to his mouth, and only just realizes how close their faces have become when Sugawara clamps a hand around his neck, thighs crushing in impossibly more- and Daichi thought _he_ had good leg muscles –and tips them back over in one fluid motion, settling on top of the Assassin.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice is back to that sickly sweetness, like a mother reading a bedtime story to her child. “You _don’t_ want that.”

That sinking pressure is removed all at once, Sugawara prancing backwards to his shoes, eyes on Daichi. The split second he bends to pick them up by the straps, Daichi’s on his feet and running at him.

With their chase back on and Sugawara’s shoes _off_ , Daichi belatedly notes, he doesn’t stand a chance. With being beaten thoroughly into the marble, legs aching and lungs stinging, he loses ground corner after corner, stumbling through the staff quarters and into the industrial kitchen at the very south of the mansion, stopping just outside of the doorway to scan the room.

Sugawara gives Sawamura Daichi a wry smile and a two-fingered salute as he passes through the back of the benches, sending him a wink between shelves, and flouncing out the door.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-


	3. Na Massi Gaji Michinnom Gatji

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His ride with Kyotani back to base is silent; he hands in his broken retinal camera and earpiece, rinsing his eye with the eye drops in the glove box. Kyotani parks down the alley, checking one of his devices before unlocking the car and letting Sugawara out.

The heels of his shoes clinking together in his left hand are the only sound as they walk through the coin-operated laundry shop and slip through the curtains in to the back, taking the slow, chunky elevator down to the basements.

“This is Yamaguchi- he’s in training for bigger missions and teamwork bullshit, not that I’d _ever_ assign him with you lot because you’re all fucking _shit_.” Is what they’re greeted with: their higher-up and Sugawara’s Section-S.O, who is undoubtedly mid-way though chewing out the rest of the team for scattering after their communications were hacked. Oikawa is spinning lazily in his huge leather chair at the center console, the rest of his team in various states of changing around him.

Suga collapses beside Kageyama- who is freed of his waiters uniform pants and jacket, currently in the process of rolling his socks off and sniffing the stench, deliberating whether or not to put something on them or just let them air out in the room. Wordlessly, Suga hands him Hanamaki’s can of deodorant. Kageyama takes it with a soft ‘thank you’.

“Harsh, boss.” Hanamaki laughs, stripping his bullet-proof vest and reaching over the top of Sugawara for a towel to dry the sweat. Suga doesn’t even bat an eyelid anymore but, _as per damn usual_ , Kyotani and Kindaichi are flushing, looking anywhere but Makki’s mostly naked body. “We did awesome, considering. _Even_ after our _leader_ went rogue.” He wonders how long Makki had been standing there in nothing but his briefs and a bullet-proof vest- probably _too long_ , because Hanamaki Takahiro is a sadistic asshole who loves making Kindaichi squirm. The best part is that he does this _only_ because he knows he can vex Suga by riling the younger members of his team.

“Put some clothes on, Hiro.” Sugawara orders him, falling right in to the trap. He attempts to prolong the retort by snatching the towel away before Makki can start saturating it with his disgusting body odor, instead using it to wipe the crusted blood from around his face. The towel was hanging over his cubicle. It’s _probably_ his.

“What’s wrong, Suga-Suga, can’t handle a little _muscle_?” Hanamaki growls, tensing up, forcing his already burning muscles to bulge; Suga wonders what went on to get him to this point. Makki has the best stamina in their team. If he’s fatigued, he doesn’t show it- cackling brashly when Kindaichi stumbles off to get a water bottle, and Suga punches Makki in the gut until he gags.

It doesn’t take too long. Sugawara doesn’t hold the Agency’s record for most pushups in a minute for nothing.

Kindaichi seems fine, if a little flustered. Not that he was in any immediate danger during the mission or anything. Though, Sugawara knows first hand how stressful it can feel to be sat at a desk watching the ops, helpless on the physical side. Kageyama and Kyotani are drained- they’ve never been the biggest _people_ persons, preferring their works to have one-on-one or minimal human contact. Makki and Shingeru are sweat-drenched, still a little red in the face. Shingeru has already changed into some slacks and an old sports shirt.

Suga double-takes once he spots the forlorn look Shingeru is giving him that says _no, it is not your towel, kindly get your blood off it._ Pouting in apology, Suga snorts globs of snot and blood in to it. He’ll ask Kuroo to wash it when he opens shop.

Kindaichi puts his water bottle back down, looking a little green.

“Maybe I _should’ve_ been your Second-”

“Oh, _finally_ , you’ve all stopped _ogling_ Makki and bitching between yourselves.” Oikawa cheers, staring fixedly at Suga. “Can we go over this, please?”

“Sorry-” Suga returns his sight, but drops it as Oikawa goes on. He can argue his point later- there’s no reasoning with Oikawa when he’s freaking out about a mission.

“You’re sorry _now_ , are you?! Well, that’s damn _brilliant_. Sugawara Koushi is _sorry_ , everybody- how awesome, because he _compromised_ us and put his dumb self in danger for a _technician_.”

“Iwaizumi is far more than a technician and you _know it_ , boss.” Hanamaki is first to defend him when he steps out of line, as always.

“You disregarded _our Boss’s_ orders- the ‘disengage if spotted’ one – _I_ didn’t make that call, Sugawara, and you _know it_. Chief did. Same as his ‘extra back-up’ requirement, which you forwent in your pursuit of Iwaizumi- oh, and let’s not forget _Mr. Refreshing_ and his fucking _bloodstain_ on the wall of Ushijima Mansion- I’m going to have to call Ushiwaka and apologise tomorrow morning! No trace, my fucking _asshole_! All of the calls from a higher-up, and you managed to fuck them up. _Congratulations_.”

_There’s a far bigger one in the lower ballroom, but I’m not gonna be the one to tell you that, not right now…_

Suga concentrates on not twiddling his thumbs, clenching his mouth to stop himself from speaking up about his brief- _incredible yet incredibly pointless to the mission_ –confrontation with the Assassin’s lead man.

“Haha- _Asshole_ …” Makki snorts, laughing into his shorts bunched up in his hands. At a glare from Oikawa, he shuts up and pulls them on. Kageyama takes the lapse in voices to spray his feet with deodorant- the reek has already thoroughly stunk up the room, but Suga watches him sigh at the misty cold relief on his hot feet and leaves him be.

“… Are you done, sir?” The newest face in the room- coincidentally the closest one to Oikawa -whispers, smiling sadly when Sugawara notices him. He makes a mental note to get to know Yamaguchi after their ‘debriefing’ ends.

Suga has learnt to call these team meetings anything but; as Makki takes any excuse he can draw to _literally_ de-brief himself. Oikawa even took to calling them ‘rebriefing’s after the initial internal backlash of Hanamaki wandering through the workspaces to his office in his birthday suit.

 _Working at P.I.A_ , Suga thinks to himself _not_ for the first time, _is wild_.

Oikawa takes a gasping breath, deflates into his chair, spinning towards the console. His fingers fly over the keys, picking out his target screens and folders from the projector screen with more ease than a shark in a swarm of seals.

“Your retina cam was on until he smashed you in the face, audio was down the whole time and my pal Ushiwaka doesn’t see the benefit in having bugs in his place- do you remember much? I got Kyo to lip read him for the first bit but we don’t know what else happened after your cam was damaged-”

“No, no- I remember. We intimidated each other, threw each other in to walls, I asked him who he’s in league with-”

“Did you explicitly say-”

“No, I didn’t, but I implied we… _Knew_?”

“Good, good, go on.”

“So I asked him, he told me to, and I _quote_ : ‘back off before and your pawns still have the chance’, and that was all we said.”

“Useful, Koushi, useful.” Makki sneers.

“Trap, Hanamaki. _Shut it_.” Suga pokes back, throwing his bloody towel at the man. Hanamaki tries to dart out of the way, toppling Kageyama out of his seat with a comical shriek.

“What does he mean by that?” Yamaguchi worries over Oikawa’s shoulder, but the boss brushes his concerns aside.

“Iwaizumi Hajime is nothing but a stress-gabbler, nothing to worry about- now, Suga. What happened _after_ you stopped talking?” Oikawa asks Suga, and _here it is_ , he thinks. The mastermind behind their operations, Oikawa Tooru- smirking in his big chair with his fingertips pressed together like a bloody villain -has come out to play in his specialty field. One that gets a lot of game, here in Tokyo’s suburbs.

_Paranormal Investigations._

“Black light. Electricity disruptions.” Suga tries to keep it short, as impersonal as he can. “Ten seconds, tops- was before the figure arrived and ceased once I lost sight of him, once it all disappeared. Iwaizumi went with him, but Matsukawa stayed.”

“Yamaguchi, my phone. I have to tell Chief immediately.”

Yamaguchi scrambles away to Oikawa’s office in search of his mobile.

“Why, what’s up boss? What’s going on?” Shingeru spits in rapid-fire. It’s unusual for Oikawa to be so bright-eyed, even for being up this late at night on a case.

“There’s something _far_ more sinister at work, here." Oikawa practically drawls, keying up security footage from Ushijima Mansion. “Sug, you said Iwa-izumi disappeared, yes- the other figure?”

“Male- tall, thin. Tinges of yellow and grey, nothing like the purple-black we caught back in that Shinjuku raid.”

“The taller one- it must’ve been. _Damn_ it.” He snaps his fingers, clicks his tongue before stamping his thumb on the un-pause button.

The footage rolls before all their eyes: Suga performing a faultless takedown on Matsukawa, he and Iwaizumi going back and forth for half a minute, and then the lights go mad, the footage bursting with static. True to his observations, the disruption lasts roughly ten seconds on the ticking timestamp at the top of the projector before shimmering back to clarity- Oikawa pauses it with Suga mid-air, his face having just come in to contact with the wall. Around him, the rest of the Agents chuckle.

Suga’s merely relieved that Oikawa cuts the tape before Daichi enters the scene, only keeping the section of distortions.

“ _Fuck_ , is there even an image?” Oikawa mutters, hitting the playback until the start of the distortion and going frame by frame. Chunks of white and black pixels eat the visual, but they’re able to put together a puzzle piece of the scene Sugawara must’ve seen. A tall, daunting figure in a jet-black cloud, lightning-like flashes of the colours Suga had mentioned. And there, in the last few frames before the timestamp hits _23:08:11_ , the patches clear around Suga, again caught in mid-flight. But this time, no one laughs.

He leaves it frozen; jaw hanging in disbelief, patting blindly for where Yamaguchi placed his phone.

“Well fuck me?” Hanamaki states, unable to hide the twinge of incredulity in his drawl. “It really is a Demon. Congrats, boss. You’re not insane.”

They’ve all gotten used to hearing that due to the number of paranormal cases Oikawa has managed to solve, and Oikawa waves him off, holding his phone to his ear.

“Yo, get to the Spy building. It’s _urgent_.”

They all hear the gabble of their Chief’s ranting, likely telling Oikawa that it’s _not_ the time for investigations, that the Paranormal time is the _night_ , and _his_ time is regular hours for their clients.

“Yes, I- yeah, I understand- but- Chief- I- dude, _listen_! We got one.”

_“What?!”_

Sugawara snorts in surprise, hacking when globs of blood slide down his throat. Hanamaki presses the towel over his mouth, whimpering something along the lines of _‘not on the carpet, Kuroo’s gonna start charging us!’_

“On the job, in Ushiwaka’s place, _tonight_. He gave me permission to get into his surveillance and we’ve got a clear image of one.”

_“I’ll be there in ten hang tight!!!”_

“Ah~” Oikawa tosses his phone to Yamaguchi, spinning a few times in his chair. “Lucky, Sugawara! If it weren’t for your brash disregard for the rules, I’d be inclined to punish you~”

 _“_ Punish _me_!?” He whines into the towel- Hanamaki mimics him, translating for the group.

“Someone still died.” Kyotani blankly informs them, already in casual clothes and tapping away on his laptop in his cubicle. The man would make a great Spy if he didn’t hate the earpieces so much.

“ _What_?” Kageyama chokes, unusually emotional than usual for losing a mark. It was a big operation, and tensions were high. Suga pats him on the back gently, giving Shingeru a wordless order to say something in his stead. “I- I, no, that was _my_ fault, shit. I thought I had the guy _pinned_.”

“We all left at around the same time, Kags,” Shingeru comforts him, “One of them could’ve gotten to him after we were compromised.”

Suga slaps Makki.

“Reports?” Hanamaki asks Oikawa for Suga, unclasping the back of the corset and peeling it down Sugawara’s front, helping his boss with picking the dripping padding foam off and dumping it in the bin.

“Poisoning, apparently. But their tests don’t show up toxins- they don’t know what it was, so they’ve tagged it as the most likely thing- paralysis, asphyxiation. A spiked drink.” Huffing loudly, Oikawa gets out of his chair and strides past the Agents as they break off into their own discussions, winding down and preparing to go home for some rest before their day tomorrow. Crouching down in front of Kageyama. “There you go, Kageyama. Demons, not your ill-perceived incompetence.” He sniffs. “Now put some fucking shoes on before I puke on your feet, go home and get some rest.”

“Yessir.” Kageyama mumbles around a tiny smile.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

 _“What the fuck was that!_?” Iwaizumi screams at a whisper, not daring to physically assault Tanaka and Yachi- it’s a close thing, but even he knows his limits. “I- I closed my eyes, and I- ended up _here_? Who _was_ \- _what_ in _hell_ was-”

“Voice down!” Tanaka hushes him, glancing to the door worriedly. They’re coming of the high after fulfilling one of their most well paying client’s requests, settled with a beer and a few rounds of card games in the private room above a takeaway restaurant they’d done a few _services_ for.

“Funny you’d say that, Iwaizumi,” Yachi drones, “Interesting choice in words.”

“I don’t get- I don’t understand what- you-”

“A Demon.” She shrugs. “He was a Demon- the one who _saved_ you, _thanks_. We found him snooping around a P.I.A investigation in the city, didn’t give much away at first, but- eventually, I found out he was pursuing them. Like us. I convinced him to help us- he said he had a friend, and bang. Deal struck.”

For all he’s inwardly doubted his team and their morals, Iwaizumi can sense that this is a step _too_ far off the moral map and in to truly wicked territory.

“You’re- you’re _crazy_.” Iwaizumi cries, backing further towards the door and away from his two apparently unaffected coworkers, occasionally tossing a card into their play, “Demons aren’t _actually_ real!”

“Iwaizumi, be quiet! Daichi’ll hear…” Tanaka tries to placate him, _again_ , because Iwaizumi still can’t wrap his head around several things that the pair’s admissions and implicit actions have revealed to him. _And Daichi doesn’t even know…_

“Wait- so, you’ve, what, made a deal with him?”

“A few, actually. They’re useful-”

_So they’re using whatever kind of Thing they’ve found to do their work, minimizing their risk-_

“You’ve been using the help of supernatural powers to do your tasks?”

“And the pay is _astronomical-_ ”

_And have been scamming our boss- think of all the extra assignments they’ve been picking up, lately. Shit-_

“I- you- you _have_ to tell Daichi-”

“Could you _imagine_ tellin’ our Bossman? He’d flip his lid if he knew! Think he’s in one of those dream states again n’ try to kill us. Trust me, man, this is for the best. ‘Sides, if Yachi says it’s a good idea, it’s a _good_ idea…”

“Well, I don’t like it!” _Just get out, get out of here while you can, go home and think about it- take a breath, Iwaizumi, you’re not going mad, you’re not going mad-_ “Whether you’re telling the fucking truth or not, it’s _stupid_ … _Even_ for crazy killers like yourselves.”

He slams the door on his way out, ducking around the corner- just in time, too. _I know these idiots too well_ , he thinks when the door cracks open and Tanaka’s head peeks out, whipping side to side. He waits for the door to shut- open again, and shut one more time. Silently, he creeps back to it and presses his ear to the space left between the frame and the door.

 _“Shit-”_ Tanaka is spooking, Iwaizumi can hear him pacing around the little room, “ _You heard him- he thinks we’re nuts. He’s probably gonna go tell boss, ah- Yachi, what’re we gonna do?”_

_“Calm yourself, Ryuu. I have a plan…”_

Iwaizumi covers his mouth, trying to stifle his breaths as he catches the drift of her murmurs.

 

 

“I can’t go to Daichi about it, I couldn’t possibly- he’d never believe me, Fang, he’d- and even if he _did_ , he’d get _obsessed_. You know how Daichi is, he’s… He’s just.” Iwaizumi rambles over his noodles, Fang cocking her head as if she is considering his options along with him. “With these two in on it, he’ll go off at Mattsun and I as well for betrayal, and- and, _shit,_ what if Issei knows about this?! Should I tell him? Should I try warning him, because I… I have to… But if he _is_ , then I’ll be- no, they would’ve told Issei by now, I… I can’t… I- they’re going to _kill_ me, Fang- _eliminate me_ , like, _shit_ , I’m the damn _techie_ and I’m gonna get killed- _by my own side_ , what kind of… Fuck- I can’t… I’m…”

Iwaizumi takes his phone out and opens it, clicking through his contacts. His hope is dying by the second. Fang creeps across his table, circling his dinner and settling in his lap- she’s too big to fit, paws and tail flopping over his thighs and sinking into the well-loved cushions of the armchair. “I’m going to do it… I _have_ to call him, Fang, he… He’s- I _know_ he will listen to me… I just know it…” Fang meows quietly, as though she’s giving her assent to bring the contact Iwaizumi’s got on his screen back into their lives.

There’s only one person he can go to- only one number he can call. One he’s been holding on to for what feels like a very, _very_ long time.

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-


	4. They Say You Never Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rad guitar solo* HEY DEVIL CMON GET UR JUNK OUTTA HERE I DON’T NEED U !!!!!! this song … this so n g .. .  
> anyways wHOS READY TO MEET THE KING OF HELL: Asahi the emo Lord of the Underworld who just wants some damn peace and quiet

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“Lord Asahi.”

She glides up the chamber to meet him, a pair of spheres filled with two-tone light in her hands. Flashes of Soul colours have become so commonplace that they barely catch his eye. Asahi smiles at her wearily, tapping the redhead in the chair beside him for attention; he looks up lazily but perks up upon seeing the lights in her hands.

“Hi Shimizu!”                                                                                             

“Hello Little Prince-”

“Are those Souls!?” Hinata gabbles eagerly, grabbing the attention of the other Demons in the chamber. Disregarding them and leaning forward in his throne, the small golden crown tips down and flattens his wild red hair into his eyes. It’s stopped by the maturing horns hidden in the mess of a flame-bright mane, and he sweeps the ends over his face apart to get a close look at the Souls trapped in their spheres. “What’s going on! Has something-”

“What is it now, Shimizu?” Asahi asks her, ignoring Hinata and accepting the Souls with a nod. “Not another incident, is it?”

“I’m afraid so... Two of the Lowers have snuck to the surface and are making deals with murderers, Lord.”

“Good!” Hinata crows, the pout he’d pulled at being ignored clears up when he turns to Asahi with his arms raised, “Right?!”

“Bad.” Asahi swats Hinata on the head, sighing deeply. “Why must _everyone_ ruin _everything_ ….” He stands from his grand throne and floats around the back of it, staring blankly into the Blood Pool for a moment. Conjuring the images of the souls Shimizu gave him is getting easier by the millennia, given the rise of Demon activity on the surface with the problematic reaching an all-time high. The memories of the two basic-level Demons flood his brain and he compartmentalizes them, files it as useless for the moment. This, too, is getting simpler. “If all Demons were dogs, my life would be so much easier...”

“You always say The Prince is like a dog.” Shimizu, the sly Reaper, overhears him and brings his words to the attention of the Prince- whose mood eagerly rides on acceptance. Asahi wonders how the kid is going to do on the throne when he inevitably restarts this painful Phase to keep reality on its feet; Hinata’s always been temperamental and scatterbrained- which one would think should suit the position of the Keeper of the Underworld; Death; The Devil; Satan; Hades. His position has far too many names to count, too many concepts to comprehend, but all Asahi Azumane cares about is that it isn’t often a Phase lasts as long as this one has, nor is it often that a Prince is as young as Hinata Shouyou.

The world was never supposed to be this way- run by the split parts of Souls in different humans, the energy burnt straining for its other pieces fuelling the spinning planet from within. This upset in nature has formed a growth of a dark flipped side under the crust, filled with the cities long buried, with the civilizations of the ages, with the dead and their Souls. Asahi- one of the three beings who has seen and is able to recall the opposite sides of the Earth’s surface –thinks of it as a mirror. Where people die on the surface is where they will appear in the Underworld: an amalgam of ruins rebuilt, always a number of centuries behind the image of the crust. The Core of the Earth holds the Souls, feeding off of the energy to hold gravity stable and keep the Earth from falling to pieces. Shimizu moves between the gallery-like Core to Asahi’s tower with information and diagnostics on the status of their planet. Halfway to reaching the Core, a pinnacle from the top of the inverse side of the globe is the Lord’s tower- he’s managed to form such a building to make her job less draining as the human population grows, the task getting out of hand in times of crisis. World Wars, epidemics; Souls crafted and split as fast as they descended into the Underworld.

Throughout the recent burst, Asahi has been unable to initiate a change of Phase. With such an incompetent Prince, leaving the throne for the surface, for _him_ , would surely result in pandemonium. Shimizu should be moderately capable with the Souls, but it’s Hinata who’s responsible for order amongst Demons, the lone partners or parts of a Soul, freshly aware and eager for their freedom from limbo. That’s the hardest part of the job- that’s where things start to go wrong and the Underworld begins leaking through to the other side. When rationality creeps away, time becomes insignificant…

_That’s how it’s been for years… For centuries… for thousands and millions of years…_

All partnerships, all logic, all stable courses of time have been ripped apart because of a simple love…

_My own selfishness, still raw, still fresh although it has been eons…_

_I’m so tired… I need my rest… I need… I need him…_

“Yes, but he is not a _good_ dog. He’s…” Hinata’s chin wobbles, his hands sizzling at the surface and going bright red, molten gold bubbling through small fissures that break out over his knuckles, white where he grips the armrests of his throne, and up his forearms. _Don’t say bad dog, don’t say bad dog, he’s gonna blow_ , “A middling dog. Not a bad one.”

With his back turned, he mutters: “Damnit, he really _is_ a dog,” followed by: “What in the Overworld am I thinking about…”

“See, Hinata, Lord Asahi _does_ appreciate you.”

“ _Yay_!” Hinata cries. Shimizu smiles up at Asahi when he turns from the Blood Pool, and that’s as good of an apology he’s going to get from the Chief Reaper.

“Their names?”

“Tsukishima and Kunimi, Lord.”

“Hm. What kind of deals are they making?”

“Killings- and mind control, for their works of manslaughter, Lord.”

“Fetch… Fetch Akaashi for this. He’s similar to Tsukishima. Maybe they’ll-”

“Akaashi moved on, Lord.”

Asahi pauses, fumbles with the Souls in his hands. He lifts the golden-black one to his eye, looking through the half-filled sphere and off into the pulsing, shadowy red void outside the giant openings penning the pinnacle of his tower.

“… What?”

“The other part came, and he has left, Lord.”

Refraining from shaking the Soul’s essence into the empty space of the sphere- knowing the agony it can cause -he grinds his teeth. _That’s how it works, down here, that’s how it’s always worked- and it is damn inconvenient. They die- they come, they could leave at any moment when their part or parts come- when the people who hold the other pieces of their Souls die._

_Perhaps it’s frustration getting to me... I truly have been around too long, now… The longer this Phase goes, the more childish I become, the more I wane, the more I snap- the shorter my temper gets…_

It’s a Reaper’s job to join the Souls and send them in to Oblivion for reincarnation- Shimizu has been around since the beginning of mankind to do her job- same as he –and has probably seen rejoinings of every degree, as well as the Lone Souls of every walk of life. But, at her Lord’s downheartedness of a passing, she tries her best to comfort him. Taking the Souls from him, she runs a hand gently down his cheek, gazing in to his eyes. _Strength_ , she seems to be telling him, _have strength, I’ll still be here, even when everyone you’ve met leaves, when everyone you love leaves this place- you’ve been doing a great job, you will be fine. Not long, and these worlds will be resurrected- not long, and you will see him again… It has been hundreds of years, but you are strong…_

“Fine.” Asahi sigh, gently moving Shimizu aside to look down at the Prince in his smaller throne. “ _Hinata_.”

“Yes?!” He squeaks, fingers falling away from adjusting his crown atop his head, whirling in his chair and hugging the back of the chair in delighted expectation. His crown falls down over his eyes again and Asahi snatches it off with a gust of power.

“Go to the surface-” Hinata jumps out and does a few flips, basking in gold and red, his Soul’s power flickering from his hands and feet, whooping enthusiastically- “Shimizu, accompany him. This can be a _lesson_ , Hinata. How to deal with people who meddle with our kind.”

Hinata cools off, sailing to a point where he’s at the same height as Asahi.

“Wh- okay, what are you gonna make me do?”

“First, you need to find out what exactly the humans are up to- who they’re trading with, who they’re targeting, and so on. According to his memories, _this_ main man is called Daichi Sawamura- his Soul is very bright, so he should be easiest to find…” He points in to the Blood Pool, displaying Tsukishima’s eyesight, watching the back of a dark-haired man in a crisp suit, “He should lead you straight to them- you have my full permission to use a mind-read or compelling or whatever you’re best at on him. Then, you’ll need to track down Tsukishima and- and… Who was the other one?”

“Kunimi. Both First-Level Demons, nothing you can’t handle, Little Prince.”

“Great. Excellent. Yes, find them, and banish them back here.”

“Banishing. Got it, Lordy-Lord.” Hinata claps his hands together, nodding in earnest. “I can do that.”

“But not without finding out what they’ve done up there, _alright_? Once you send them back here, I’ll show you how to clean up whatever mess they’ve left up there. Memories, images, _people_ , if we can, and so on.”

“Got it, Asahi! Find out what they’re up to and _banish_ ‘em! You can count on me!!”

“Just remember to be careful, and…”

But Hinata has already taken off, diving down the side of the tower, increasing his arc as the levels expand out into the Lowers dwellings, cursing when Shimizu zips past him and takes the lead in the gateway to the surface at one of the most densely populated area above.

 _Japan_.

“Ready, Hinata?” She calls back to him.

“ _Yeah_! Yeah, totally!!”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

In Kageyama’s humble opinion, rainy days are the _only_ days that burnt coffee truly tastes nice.

The café down the street from the Nekoma Laundromat’s façade that hides P.I.A is _his_ spot- more specifically, the booth in the back corner one in from the window –to brood and think. At any other lunch break, rare as they are, he’d spend most of the time scowling at the shit coffee. He always asks for them to make it sour to his tastes, but it never happens nowadays with the fancy, modern brewing machines Karasuno had purchased a year or two ago.

On rainy days, however, his soul somehow feels at peace. He, Kageyama Tobio, is _at peace_ , and that _never_ happens on his own accord.

Peace, today, with the swirling plans of Sawamura Daichi’s next move fresh and ready to be ruminated upon, are shattered by a hair-raising presence. Hand concealed in pockets and face half-hidden by a hood. Anonymity, lack of clear physical intent- that’s what tips him on a primal, instinctual level.

A short person, _so_ short Kageyama misses him at first when he surveys the café for strangers, is staring straight at him- striding towards him with some eager bounce in his step, almost floating off the ground with the exuberance he embodies. Kageyama could see it from miles away. It makes him want to be sick, how someone could palpably be so obnoxiously _alive_ , let alone _exultant_ in that fact _._

“What’re you staring at, _dumbass_?”

With nothing but a shrug, this little shit takes the seat across from him rather rudely- Kageyama couldn’t care less when the kid finally puts his hands in sight. _He’s clearly some harmless teen, probably wanting to weasel a free coffee or some shit_. “Hey, _dumbass_ , I didn’t say you could sit there-”

“Do you know about Sawamura Daichi?”

The first thing he feels is his ears going numb. Then his fingertips, and finally his toes. Eventually, the incomprehension punches him in the gut full force, not bothering to hide behind deadening subtleties.

“… Why do you- what? What do you wanna know?” Kageyama splutters, putting down his coffee before he tips it all over the table, because he could have _sworn_ that this _teenager_ just asked him-

“I want to know what _you_ know about Sawamura Daichi.”

_Oh._

_Okay._

“Can…” Stifling every instinct he has to scream, Kageyama gets up, walking evenly towards the door. “Can you hold on for _one_ second?”

“Sure!!”

“Thanks.”

He slips outside into the busy street, hustling down an alleyway more-or-less detached from the deafening lunch rush. His phone is out and dialing, picked up on the first ring, a gloved hand covering it from above to save it from the rain. When the tone abruptly stops, Kageyama’s mind flickers with panic, as if someone had hurled a flashbang into his skull.

“Suga?!”

_“Kageyama, what’s… What’s up- what’s with that voice, are you okay?”_

“No, _no_ I’m- I’m fine, it’s… There’s, uh… There’s this _guy_ here asking about… About Sawamura Daichi. Should I call this in?”

_“… What, is he in Kuroo’s? Is he in the fucking laundry- how much does he know?”_

“No- no, it’s- he’s not in the laundry- he’s in this café I’m at for lunch, and he’s asking _me_ \- in- the place, it’s called Karasuno, nothing sketchy, just a small little-”

_“Uh… Oh-kay… Maybe- ask why? Or what he wants it for? But be ready to bring him in, definitely. See how much you can get out of him before he starts getting scared or violent. But don’t threaten- do not threaten him, whatever you do.”_

“Thanks, Suga.”

_“No… No problem. I’ll be out the front in a minute.”_

“Thanks.”

He leans against the wall for a moment, catching his breath, before darting back around the shop fronts and into the café. He’s barely in his seat and the question is coming out- scary, strong, like an interrogation.

“What do you want it for?”

The kid, to Kageyama’s surprise, shakes his head violently, settling not a second later to cocks it to the side and frown at the sudden attitude change. Although subtle, underlying anger towards the world turning in to frustrated-confused-scared anger, the boy picks it up.

_Unnerving… There’s something bone-deep unnerving about this kid…_

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

Shimizu gets to the surface first, waving farewell to him just as he emerges, a quiet “Use your powers, don’t do anything _dumb_ , I’ll find you in a few hours, okay?” and ultimately _ditches_ Hinata on his own. He knows her intentions from similar assignments- ones in the Underworld in training for his place as Lord. She would always stand back when he’d face an indomitable task, claiming it’s for his individual development and that she’ll have an eye on him the whole time.

The Demon wanders the streets, whistling to himself- he almost forgets the hoodie on his head when he tilts his head up into the wondrously cool shower, hastily stopping it form slipping so as not to reveal his horns. A trail of red and gold leads him through the streets, phasing through humans and street signs and cars, visible only to him. His mantra controlling the power- it leads him to an average-looking café adorned with black birds and pastel chairs, bubbling around a human sitting alone in the back corner. _Find someone who knows about Sawamura Daichi, find someone who knows about Sawamura Daichi, find someone…_

“What’re you staring at, _dumbass_?”

Hinata considers the human, shrugs, and plops down in the seat across from them. Those striking blue eyes had been searching him up and down, taking in his form, lingering on the hoodie over his hair and the big pocked his hands are stuffed in to. After a moment, feeling the want to be polite to this human- to this _living_ being –for some dumb reason, Hinata takes his hands out of his jacket and puts them on the table, leaving them in plain sight. The human doesn’t jolt, doesn’t react other than a single flicker of their eyesight to the bare, empty hands, and then back up to Hinata’s face.

“Hey, _dumbass_ , I didn’t say you could sit there-”

“Do you know about Sawamura Daichi?”

The human clams up- a sparkle of blue sneaks out of their mouth when they exhale in shock. _What a freaky guy…_

“… Why do you- what? What do you wanna know?”

“I want to know what _you_ know about Sawamura Daichi.”

“Can…” The human makes a constipated face, and Hinata nearly laughs at them but feels like this is the kind of guy who’d punch him in the face for that, “Can you hold on for _one_ second?”

“Sure!!”

“Thanks.”

Hinata leans back in his chair, watching from the cover of his hood and waiting for the human to go out of sight in the street. Once he’s sure he’s secure, alone in the concealed booth, he closes his eyes and focuses, drawing nonsensical patterns on the tabletop that burn against the chilled lacquer, appearing behind his closed eyelids.

_Just like Shimizu taught me… In to their blood, their Soul… I can’t find their present self, but I can see… I can see something… I can…_

_Their name- Kageyama Tobio, in his twenties, male- a man, heart rate spikes and anxiety-driven, that’s very curious… Blue-Bronze… Something about his Soul resonates with me. I should probably ignore it.., Asahi would get mad if I got distracted on this task... Maybe I can ask him about it later…_

_Comes to this location every so often, bitter to the bone on coffee- must be already so bitter that the sourness is needed to balance it out… Has a stash of gummy worms under his bed- no, no that’s irrelevant, dig deeper… Co-workers piss him off but he does like them… Combat training and flight-fight reflexes is strong, he is very strong… Works as a Spy- yes, yes, I figured that out, so he must have a connection with him, he must, somehow…_

_Connections with Sawamura Daichi- whose Soul… Red, White… I think… I think I can spot it- glimpses, through crowds of colours, through some kind of overwhelming combination- Similar Souls, how disgusting, I can’t… I can’t see past all the pink, the white is overwhelming-_

Hinata clutches his head, humming in the back of his throat. Focusing this hard on someone’s Soul is hard- he’s never had to do it so intently and so fast in his existence.

_He is a Spy- and Agent, and perusing Sawamura and his- Oikawa Tooru, this guy, why is he important? He’s… What- ah, Head of Paranormal Investigations specialist, Detective at the Private Intelligence Agency, recently confirmed the existence of-_

His conjured image of Kageyama’s Soul bursts in his head. _A pulse spike, he’s on the move, maybe he’s running away- but, ah- ah, I can’t move, I can’t- can’t hear, or see- I can’t feel…_ It’s a shocking blow to his senses, and he has scarcely enough time to wrangle them back in order when the man comes racing back in. As Kageyama speaks, his voice is sharp-edged and scary.

_Hah. Like Sawamura Daichi’s that big of a deal, I could kill him with my pinky finger-_

“What do you want it for?”

Hinata shakes his head to rid his vision of the last starburst curtains of ocean blue and clear his ear of a metallic, gong-like ringing. Remembering himself, he regards Kageyama, trying to process his hidden swing of mood. _Will he get violent; will he try to capture me? Will he think I’m in league with Sawamura Daichi and am just very bad at trying to get information? Will he believe that, and try to eliminate me? Asahi said the best way to deal with someone like this, in my case, is to act innocent._

_But he also wanted me to complete his task._

_I must find Sawamura Daichi, and the Demons helping him, at all costs._

“… Huh?”

“Why do you want me to tell you about Sawamura Daichi?”

“Well, because you’re a sp-”

A cold, leather-gloved hand is pressing over his mouth before he can finish his sentence, Kageyama’s harsh whisper taking his place in the tense air between them.

“Not so _loud_ , dumbass.”

_I’m given a moment, here- to think. He’s very obviously panicked about my intentions._

_I see no issue in telling him- in being honest. Really, honesty is the best way to get a job done. Shimizu even told me that! And Shimizu can’t be wrong!! If he’s going to help me find Demons, I must tell him that I am a Demon._

_Yes. That makes sense._

_Better tell him now before he freaks out even more, the idiot human._

“ _Okay_.” Hinata leans away from Kageyama, stands up, slams his palms down, stopping just before hitting it and letting them lay softy on the wood. He bends forward, speaking at a whisper to appease Kageyama’s mistrust. “Cards on the table. I’m a Demon sent here by Lord Asahi, ruler of the Underworld, to bring back a pair of rogues who are making deals with Sawamura Daichi and his operatives.”

It comes out in one big rush of air, Hinata being more thrilled to get it all out than he is to scurry it, like it’s something he should be hiding or worried about sharing.

_The sooner I can get him on my side, the sooner I can get him talking, and than the sooner I can-_

“ _Bullshit_?”

“Huh?!”

“C-come with me, please?”

“Are you going to tell me about Sawamura?”

“Yeah, sure…”

_What could he possibly want to do with me- why would he lie? He’s a human, anyway. A mortal._

_Worst comes to worst, I can just kill him and start a new line. There is a whole building filled with people who know Sawamura Daichi, somewhere. Surely I could find them, with or without this idiot’s help._

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“Suga…”

“This is him?”

“Yes.”

Kageyama watches, fascinated, as Sugawara’s _Mom_ -mode switches on. He faces the kid, the three of them drove to the side of the bustling street at the entrance of the Nekoma Laundromat, and even though it’s only body language, the kid seems to instantly relax.

“Hello! Please come inside.” Suga steps out of the way, holding the door for the kid. He doesn’t step back nor forward, unswaying at the invitation, no: he pats himself down in what Kageyama eventually places as _absolute confusion_ , even checking himself over before looking back up at Sugawara.

“My… But my clothes are clean…”

Suga chuckles, leaning down closer to the kid.

“Your questions about Sawamura Daichi- we can answer them, but first… We need to ask you a few if that’s alright.”

“Well of course!” The kid frowns at Suga, the same way he’d frowned at Kageyama earlier, eventually grinning and regaining the spring to his general being. “If you’re gonna tell me, I should tell you- that’s fair, right?”

“Yes, that is fair.” Looking over the hooded kid as he bounds in through the door, Suga gives Kageyama an unreadable look. Kageyama raises his arms; an unabashed gesture reading _‘what the hell are you looking at me for’_. It’s enough to turn Sugawara back to the case at hand. “What did you say your name was, again?”

“Hinata! Hinata Shouyou!”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“… Hello~?”

_“…”_

“How did you get this number~?”

_“…”_

“If you’re tracking me, I’ll know~”

_“…”_

“Hello…?”

_“… Tooru.”_

Oikawa exclaims incoherently and drops his phone on his face, tumbling out of his seat after it and ending up collapsed on the floor of his office under his magnificent leather chair, fingertips just scraping the edge of his mobile. Naturally, that’s exactly when Hanamaki knocks and enters with a dead-ass _grin_ on his face, like he didn’t even have to _see_ it to know it was hilarious.

And in all honesty Oikawa would be laughing at his own dumb self too if it weren’t for the person whose voice it belonged to on the other side of the call.

“ _Out_.” He whispers harshly at Makki, squiggling forward to retrieve his phone and waving his hand vigorously to leave.

“B-but Oikawa-”

“ _Not now. Go_!” He mouths, lifting the phone back to his ear. Waiting until his door is closed, phone pressed to his head like a lifeline, he staggers to his feet and runs into the door, flicking the lock. “… Are you still there?”

“… _Yes_ …”

Oikawa’s head spins, pressing his back to the door and sliding to the floor.

“Is it… Really…”

_“Y-yes… Yeah, it’s me…”_

“I- I’m… What’s wrong?” Silence on the other side of the phone, some excited cries form outside his door, a few terrified exclamations- _what the fuck is going on out there, losers, they’re probably making fun of Kageyama again- Hanamaki wouldn’t walk away if it were Nishinoya, too, so it mustn’t be that important._ “Hey? Are- are you still-”

_“Listen. Oikawa… I- I know you said to call this number when I… Well… I… I need that out. I need that out, and I need it now. Like, right fucking now… I don’t- I don’t know who else to turn to, I’m- I’m fucked, I’m up shit creek with no paddle, I’m in way over my fucking head, there’s shit going on here I can’t even start to understand, and I need you to get me out of it. Now. Right now. There’s this mark we’re going for tomorrow night and I think they’re gonna try and off me, and- I- I- I’m asking you not- not as a call-in favor, or as an Agent, but… I’m asking as a friend. Please. Please, please- please… Get me out of here…”_

“Alright, Hajime. Calm down. Are you alone? Are you safe right now?”

_“Yes, yeah I’m at home, but we have a gathering this afternoon…”_

“ _Good_ , okay…” Oikawa takes a pen out, getting a fresh sheet of paper. “Now. Tell me about tomorrow night.”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-


	5. Keep It Deep Within Your Soul

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

The very second he puts his phone down, his office door bangs open.

“Boss, you’re gonna wanna come see this!!” Hanamaki yells at him- and right as Oikawa’s about to go accusing him for snooping, Sugawara pops up behind him.

“We had Kindaichi tracking your usage, not the call- just come _on,_ Oikawa, you’re gonna _shit_ yourself when you see him!”

“Okay, okay~ I’m coming, you fuckers...”

Outside, he hears ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, the men blocking his door joining in and racing back to the main office room.

He trudges outside, the thoughts of a fearful and cornered Iwaizumi blurring his thoughts just so that he doesn’t believe the sight he sees upon joining the semi-circle of Spies and Detective alike, all standing around a small boy with a pair of impressive, curled horns-

_Horns- what-_

“Oh. My. _Gosh_.”

There’s a muted chaos surrounding the boy, leisurely seated in Oikawa’s grand leather wheeling chair- the one he uses for meetings so that he looks the part of the important and remarkable boss he is. _Leisurely_ \- no, now, that’s the wrong word. The boy is relaxed, certainly, but he is smiling something fierce, his horns lined and crackling with vine-shaped patterns of crimson luminescence. His actions are sprightly, fast and zealous and as excited as the grin on his face.

Erasers, pen lids, staplers, classified documents that needed shredding Kageyama’s special tie- to which the man didn’t go down without a fight against – _all_ are being lined up to face the boy, enraptured by the simple supernatural power of disintegration. Kindaichi is cowering behind a cubicle wall but even he is a part of it, passing random office supplies along for Shingeru to toss.

“A _real_ Demon! In my own office!!” Oikawa cries, creeping closer to the boy. Sugawara nearly falls on his face in pulling his shoe off, calling the boy’s attention- a word garbled by anticipation –and lobs his shoe at the boy’s head. It dissolves, vaporized into tiny pieces, and Suga sighs in wonder, standing lopsidedly on his odd feet. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Hinata Shouyou! Prince Hinata, future Lord of the Underworld!” Hinata proclaims proudly, his lapse in concentration earning him a calculator to the cheek, followed by Kageyama yelling a litany of insults at the Demon.

“Awh, he’s _so cute_! Little Prince of darkness! How fuckin’ _adorable_ \- Suga, _Suga_ are you _seeing this_?! This is _incredible_!! Hinata, you are incredible~!”

“Boss, you are way too excited about this…” Kyotani grunts, throwing another pen lid at the boy, watching intensely as the boy burns it up before it can touch him.

“Ah~ Thank you!!” Hinata preens under the attention, gold flowing out with his words, clouding around his blushing cheeks. “Who are you?”

“My name is Oikawa Tooru-”

“Ah, you’re the alien guy- Kageyama told me about you!”

“Did… Did he, now?”

“No- _dumbass_ \- he read my _mind_ , Oikawa-”

“I read your _Soul_ , dummy, and it’s an _ugly_ one-”

“Soul? How did you read his Soul?”

“Oh, oh! It’s easy, I can tell you, if you want- _show_ you, I mean! It’s pretty great!”

“I would _love_ that, Hinata, _truly_ ~ Give me a second to get my notebook…”

“Okay~!”

“Hinata, hey! Can you destroy this?”

“Shingeru that’s my _wallet-_ ”

“Oh stuff it, Koushi, you’re already down a shoe!”

Thankfully Suga gets his wallet back before it can be obliterated, and Shingeru is distracted by Oikawa skipping back into the workspace, shuffling a chair close to the Demon and readying his pen at a fresh page.

“Prince! Okay~ Are you ready for some questions? Maybe we could answer some of yours at the same time~”

“Ahah, because I’m a Demon too, right?”

“Y-yes, right! Ah- do you know _who_ we’re looking for?”

“I know the names: Tsukishima Kei and Kunimi Akira. Both are Lowers- that’s low-level Demons, basic Souls. They can’t do much more than mind-control, teleportation, a few other funky mind tricks.”

“But- they can’t kill people?”

“This is _horrible_ ,” Makki whispers to Suga, “They’re both so _loud_.”

“Leave them be, they’re just happy.” Suga replies, handing Oikawa a pen when his doesn’t work.

“No, no! They _can_ use compulsion on humans to make them kill themselves, but they can’t use their powers to end life directly- y’know, not being _alive_ and all that. I mean…” His eyes watch every little word Oikawa scrawls out, laughing to himself at the man’s hurry, “There are always, like, guns and swords and stuff they could use to kill someone the _normal_ way, but Lord would be up here, like, crazy-fast to banish ‘em, he _really_ hates it when-”

“Lord? Who is this Lord?”

“Ah- the Lord of the Underworld! Asahi-chan- he’s the best!”

“You call the Devil by his name, and use ‘chan’?”

“Of course! Asahi’s _such_ a sweet guy, but- on, _no_ , he’s been so down, these days, it’s really sad to see…”

“… I- I… okay let’s go back to the whole ‘Lord-of-the-Underworld bit. What is it?”

“The Underworld? Hm… Well, it’s like here, but older.”

“Older?”

“And darker. The only light is from the Souls in the Core, and the Core itself makes this weird foggy red stuff, so everything looks like it’s bleeding all the time- but it’s a _nice_ place, I swear! I-”

“ _Whoa_ , whoa- one thing at a time, Prince~”

“Heh, sorry, I tend to get overexcited…”

“Um… _Souls_ \- let’s talk about those, okay? You said your _read_ Kageyama’s- and that the… Core-thingy, whatever, is powered by it-”

“Souls are easy to read, for Demons. They tell you anything: names, dates, current locations, _previous_ locations, current thoughts, current eyesight and, yes, previous eyesight as well… Uh, audible memories, things that tick them off and health issues, histories and genetics, heart rate, brain activity, _Soul_ activity- oh, and lovers, acquaintances, family, friends, strangers: other Souls and the humans attached to it that they come in contact with, basically. The more powerful you are, the better you are at- and the more powerful you are, the older you are… Well, the longer you’ve been dead, in the Underworld, really. You don’t _age_ there, but you gain power from being so close to the Core. The Core keeps the Earth in place, and it feeds off the Souls of the dead- that’s the only source in the universe with enough power to do such a thing. We- the whole planet is kept going and not folding in on itself because of the Core- because of what the Lord built with the energy of a full Soul, in the brief time he’d been able to hold it.”

“Okay, yeah, I _totally_ wanted my entire outlook on existence shattered, today.” Mutters Kyotani, stomping on the ground as though he’s testing it, worried it’s about to give way.

“Right, yes~” As if nothing’s wrong- as though he isn’t second-guessing his entire life and the importance of life on this rock in the grand scheme of reality, like the rest of them are -Oikawa folds one leg over the other and leans back into his seat, biting the end of his pen. “And the Souls themselves, what do _they_ do?”

“Oh… Tough one… Souls are kind of… Hard to explain, really. It’s the essence of a single presence that’s split into two or more humans. It- a Soul _always_ wants to find its other half, and burns with an absurd intensity just to do that; that’s why it’s such a good power source. It never stops, there’s _heaps_ of them- it would take only one to keep the world afloat, really, but there’d be earthquakes and bad winds and all sorts of natural disasters if it were left so unstable. So, as long as there are separated Souls, the Earth will keep moving.”

“And, if everyone on the planet were to die, it’d just-”

“ _Whoosh_ , implode, yeah. Asahi-chan- Lord Asahi, uh, he… Like I said, he created the Core with a- with a full Soul. A complete Soul, and… Humans aren’t supposed to be able to have one- Demons, too. A _whole_ one… See, when you _die_ , your Soul becomes a pure energy as part of the Core, giving us these abilities-”

“And the horns?”

“Not all of us have these. It’s more of an aesthetic.”

“ _Oh_. O… Okay-”

“So, when you die and your Soul goes in to the Core, you’re trapped there until the rest of the bits of your Soul come; until the humans containing the other parts of the Soul die as well. You don’t necessarily have to be in the same time period, either- that’s just how reincarnations work. Shimizu- she’s a Reaper Asahi reigns with, _such_ an awesome woman, she’s so pretty… She takes care of the Souls- bringing them from the surface, storing them in the Core, rejoining them and sending the dead in to oblivion to be remade. And- when you’re living, it… Your Souls will strain over lifetimes, always reaching, until they find one in which they can exist near enough to be restful. Then, it starts all over again with death. That’s how it works, in the simplest way I can put it- that’s where the power comes from.”

“What about when people are born…” Oikawa ponders, tapping the pen against his paper.

“Aha! I have an explanation for that, too! _And_ , not may people know this, so I… I actually don’t know if I should be telling you… Just don’t tell Asahi if he comes after you, okay?”

“I don’t really wanna hear this if it’s gonna draw Satan outta the pit…” Whines Hanamaki, silencing at a glare from both his Bosses, as well as a majority of the Agents.

“Go ahead, Hinata~”

“Well… A new Soul is made with every bond between humans- like… Uh, what’s the name, little baby, flying around, arrows and- _ah_ , Cupid! This guy- not Asahi, it’s- uh- he’s _kinda_ like Cupid, this other one. He’s responsible for recreating, y’know? Setting up as best as he can for the living to do the rest. He never dies, too- like Asahi, sort of… Ah, it’s getting complicated again, sorry…”

“Try your best, little guy- such things in life are rarely straightforward…”

“Okay- Asahi- no, here- the _reason_ why I’m a Prince is so that I can take over the throne when Asahi is destroyed. That marks a new Phase, when he gets sent to oblivion… Uh… Phases are periods, over which he reigns, and they usually don’t last longer than a couple hundred years, but this one has been going on for, like five hundred- _uh_ , so… This world works on the power of Souls, because that’s what made it this way in the first place. It was kinda _broken_ , for a bit- the Earth, because of these two… I… Well, the way he told me was…

“Their Souls were separate- _whole_ \- they weren’t _human_ to begin with: Asahi was a being of destruction, or despair- and the other was a creator- an Angel, that’s the closest I can describe him as, to your comprehending. And they existed, at the start of the time and space and the dimensions themselves, while matter was scattering and settling- they would still exist, _probably_ , these beings who were responsible for controlling the patterns of star clusters and black holes… If it weren’t for… Well. This being of death and this bringer of life… They got lost in the shockwave of physical elements, atoms… And, deep in the void of endless space and time, they found each other. Clinging and scared, their Souls began to meld. And- when they finally found the rest of the creators, when they were drawn apart, when… When Asahi was attacked by the rest of the…. The _Angels_ , o-or whatever you wanna call them, the one holding the other part of Asahi’s Soul went mad.

“Ravaged by pain, he turned on them- he killed them. _All_ of them. Their obliteration was all at once, like one big bomb going off, and the universe couldn’t hold it between the fabrics of the dimensions- causing it to coagulate into a brush of energy… A tweak of particles, striking a lonely rock orbiting a star. Out of ashes and oceans, life formed on the beginnings of our Earth in the wake of the destroyed creators. And that one remaining Angel was so weakened from the fight, from defending Asahi and slaughtering the rest of his kind, that his Soul began to shake. It started to fade, pulling Asahi in with it, and he too was overcome by agony. Maybe it was that, the _pain_ , which blinded them both in to their decision. Taking refuge on that little rock they fell upon, tumbling through the dimensions as their Souls deteriorated and their power dulled, they had just enough left to latch on to one another before the Angel’s figure crumbled. Asahi couldn’t maintain their combined Souls, and he _knew_ that, so… He made the Underworld. He singlehandedly _tore_ his own spot in reality to live- where he and his other part could continue to be together, figuring out the balance between life cycles and desperately trying to keep their planet from shattering from within. They adapted to periods, to living in these things we now call Phases… See, as Asahi was the one who pulled the world into their power, his existence also gradually rips it apart- _very_ , very gradually, it would take a million years for the Earth to start becoming critical, with the amount of Souls right now… So he pays the price. He can see his other for a short time- one night, usually, and then the creator will _destroy_ him, let him rest in oblivion and allow the world to heal.

“Some would say he also single-handedly _screwed_ the world over, too, because sometimes Souls take a while to make it through a life cycle, driving the dead holding the other parts crazy. But… _Personally_ , I think it’s a little… A little _sweet_ , how these two God-like creatures decided to nest, in a way, on this planet, and have made it the way it is- made _life_ the way it is. I’ve never met that guy, the one Asahi calls an Angel, but from what I’ve heard, he’s incredible. He’s the one who crafted Shimizu- that Reaper I told you about? Yeah, the guy _made_ her for Asahi- she, of course, is a very independent and very-much _not owned_ woman, but she was _crafted_ , like, for the sole purpose of ferrying Souls and maintaining the Earth. That’s _unbelievable_. These two, they planed it _all_ \- they keep the Earth, the three of them. The Lord, the Angel, and the Reaper, and it makes it so interesting, you know?! I always wonder what it would be like if I never get tossed in to oblivion- if I were allowed to keep my memories before I get remade again for a new run as Prince. It would be fascinating, to be able to talk to Asahi about this for years on end, no, _centuries_ on end, and-”

Hinata stiffens, the flood of words stopping all at once in time with the ding of the elevator. He whirls in the wheelie chair, locking his gaze on to Yamaguchi; wandering thoughtlessly down an aisle of cubicles as he flips a page in what looks to be a report. As if snapped from a daze, the Agents around him look to one another, unable to speak or comprehend the world around them, surely, until Hinata’s voice sounds again- now subdued, humming with power rather than liveliness.

“… _Touched_.”

“I’m- I’m sorry?” Yamaguchi stops mid-step, shuffling the paperwork in his hands nervously under all the attention. Unfettered by the horns on Hinata’s head, he treads closer- cautious of the words, of the accusation lying beneath the boy’s words.

“You.” Hinata stands up, his height not changing too much. His irises fill with gold, his hands with glowing red particles- tallness or no, it startles the men surrounding him. Oikawa is the only one who doesn’t dart away from the kid. “You have touched a _Demon…_ ”

“What? No… Yamaguchi? He’s…” Oikawa hesitates. He looks between the two, scribbling out a note when Hinata begins sniffing the air.

“I can smell it on you… Gold and- Tsukishima Kei. You’re both Gold-Black Souls. You- you are…”

“I-” Yamaguchi stutters, fingers trembling in the grip he’s got on the paper- “I-”

“Tadashi, is this true? Are you… Do you know a Demon?” Putting the notebook aside, Oikawa regards the newest member of the team. At a meek nod- unable to lie to the likes of Oikawa because he’ll whittle the truth out of you anyway he can –his boss grins at him. Not a dangerous one, not one that means _‘I should skin you alive for treason’_ , but one that’s characteristically curious. “Well _come on_ , get over here, tell me. Did you know Tsukishima Kei works for Sawamura Daichi?”

“He- he _doesn’t_ , no, not Tsukki.”

“Tsukki?” Oikawa teases, leaning to Suga with an uttered: “ _Touched_ my ass, that’s some bullshit.”

“Then, Yamaguchi…” Sugawara ignores Oikawa, slinking forth and rocking Hinata’s chair back and forth when he starts sulking in the lack of attention, “If you talk to him about it- surely you know the people he _is_ working for?”

“I- yeah, of course, I… Didn’t think it would matter, you were already all over them by the time I- I passed my security checks, and I-”

“Yams, darling, you’re rambling,” Sings Oikawa, flipping a number of pages on to a new page, scooting past Hinata and pulling a seat out for Yamaguchi, “And _we_ , Prince cutie-pie, will continue our conversation later. This is so very interesting, I love how passionate about it you are~”

“Okay!” Hinata cheers. He gets up- _levitates_ –out of the seat and spins in lazy circles, slowly flying over the space of the room.

“Most importantly, Yamaguchi,” And there, just like that Oikawa’s back in working mode, quashing down the child’s mind curiosity, “Tell me everything about their plans tonight. Do you think you could get Tsukishima’s help?”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

Faulting their operation was made a piece of cake, once Yamaguchi spilled his guts.

If it weren’t for the freckled newcomer, Suga wouldn’t be standing on the right side of the bars to one _enraged_ Sawamura Daichi.

“Demons?!” The man shouts at him, rattling the bars, disbelieve stone-set in his face, carved over the course of Sugawara’s explanation. “In _my_ operations?!!”

“It’s more likely than you- _ow shit-_ ” Suga jabs Hanamaki at the same time Daichi throws himself against the bars separating himself and Matsukawa. Apparently, the men had chimed in at precisely the same time, with the exact same words.

“Issei, shut your _fucking mouth_ \- did you know about this-”

“No- _fuck_ no, Boss, could you imagine the meme-repressing I’d have to subject myself to? It’d be way above my pay grade! I’d _die_.”

“Issei, you are a _good_ man…” Hanamaki praises the Assassin, realizing the fault in his words and quickly amending them, “Regardless of the fact that you’ve assisted in the murder of dozens of people.”

“Iwaizumi didn’t know anything either, Sawamura.” Mutters Sugawara, catching the man’s attention again. “Hinata checked him- he learnt about it after Ushijima’s… It was just Yachi and Tanaka- and they got away before we could stop them.”

“He helped to fuck things up, too.” Drones Hanamaki, wandering over to stand at the door of Matsukawa’s cell. “Iwaizumi- he was in _cahoots_ with Oikawa- _actually_ … His interrogation has been going on _suspiciously_ long… Suga… Can I-”

“Yes, whatever, you can go interrupt them, bastard. It’s not like these guys are going anywhere.”

All the warm air in the room leaves as Hanamaki prances off, his taunting continuing down the rows of cubicles where the other Agents are hard at work, distracting him from his intended prey. As Sugawara observed days ago, and months before that- could tell ever since the man’s first day: Hanamaki is a sadistic ass. One who would get along famously with the man who has curled up in the cell besides Daichi’s, humming to a polka rhythm. Ignoring his worker- _ex_ worker, now –Daichi strides up to the bars. He stares Sugawara down. It’s a valiant attempt.

But all it takes is for Suga to bat his eyes and lean towards the bars for Daichi to lose his temper, punching the hard iron separating them.

“Fuck you.” The Assassin growls.

Sugawara _grins_ , right in his face.

“Fuck _you_.”

“No, fu-”

“No, fuck you, Sawamura, I might be the only thing standing between you and Oikawa- and _prison_ , if you’re _lucky_.”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll be dead or in prison or whatever- _far_ away from you.”

“Ah- wouldn’t you rather be working here?”

“Why the _fuck_ would I ever want to be in the same room as you for any longer than is absolutely necessary, let alone in the same _league_ as you-”

“For starters, you’d be working _for_ me-”

“Oh, well that sounds fucking _great_ -”

“Yeah and you’d just _hate_ it, wouldn’t you- doing the same job, only you get a lower weekly income, and free living, but _other_ than that, _yeah_ , it’s pretty great-”

“ _Fuck_. You. Sugawara Koushi, just-”

“I’m _still here_ , you know!” Yelps Matsukawa. “Take your _fucked_ flirting out of the cages before I start to _slice_ myself in quarters to fit through the _fucking_ bars-”

“Ho- ho- _homos_ ,” Hanamaki’s cheering comes booming throughout the office, “This is one _nasty_ interrobang!!”

“Ew! They’re _kissing_!!” That’s Shingeru, shedding some light on Makki’s cryptic commentary.

“ _Out, all of you get out_!” Oikawa’s yelling, Iwaizumi’s chuckles reverberating even after the office door slams shut.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

Asahi, for the first time in his entire existence, bellows a curse. Not just mutters, not just whispers or speaks it to himself loud enough for only Shimizu to hear, no. He _shouts_.

“ _Fuck_ it!! I have to do _everything_ myself.”

He’s had enough of watching the plans fall to shit, soaring from his throne and out in the blink of an eye, descending through the levels and into the gateway to the present world.

His silver trail leads him to a high room, the cozy apartment that is blown in a whirlwind by his presence.

“Tsukishima Kei.” The Lord thunders, summoning the man to him and banishing him with practiced ease.

“Where- where did he go?! _Where_ did- what happened- _what did you do to Tsukki_?!” Through the billows of papers and books, pillows and socks, a dark-headed man yells at him, clutching the sheets of his bed in anger, hair blown a mess by Asahi’s sway on the corporeal world.

 _Yamaguchi Tadashi_ , Asahi places him immediately, _Gold-Black Soul, it must be why Tsukishima was here…_ A lingering resonance of the resonating Souls in the room taste bittersweet on his tongue. “He _must_ wait his turn…”

_… A job that puts him in line with Daichi Sawamura, that- Hinata, he’s seen Hinata- a man named Oikawa Tooru, and the- this man, the one who… Who started it all…_

_No… It couldn’t have been… That sly little…_

“What does that even _mean_ \- where _is_ he? Where is he…” Asahi ignores Yamaguchi, easing himself back into the ambiguity of the night sky, fading through colours of Souls, picking through every possible combination in search.

A familiar set, _Purple-Black… That’s Kunimi_ , catches his eye, leading him down into a storage garage.

“Oh, _fuck-_ ” He’d put a hand over his eyes of the two weren’t broken up by the pandemonium caused by his manifestation- “Why- this is _too_ much for me- _why_ are you two _bonding_ with the enemies of the people you’re doing deals with?!”

 _“Deals?”_ Kunimi laughs at him, not bothering to put on anything resembling a modesty-concealing garment as he starts the process of returning to the Underworld. “No- _we_ offered and were working something out- at _first_ we were just stalking Souls… It’s so hard to resist, even a Soul-less Lord of Death like yourself must understand!” With one last look to the man left behind on the mattress, still trying to pull his underwear on, Kunimi smirks.

“I’ll see you around, Lord!”

“You will _not_ come back up here!!”

“Oh~ I can’t hear you, I’m already in hell!!” Comes Kunimi’s muffled taunt.

“ _What the fuck is going on, Akira, what the fuck- Akira!?!?_ ” Kindaichi screams.

Asahi hightails it to his vantage point in the sky, wondering again why he even _bothers_ to keep the equilibrium between the Underworld and the living. His job gets ridiculous, sometimes, with humanity and their ever-changing nature, now more brash and uncaring than ever with this new generation.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“La~ _La_ , la~ Ohoh, it’s a _good_ night, let’s go for a _fly_ ~!”

He preens his wings, plucking the grey feathers beginning to mix in with the pure white.

“I can _hear_ him, I can~”

He’s opening his window, feeling the surge- a burst of silver, escaping from his chest into the night, swirling up like steam into the stars.

“I finally know _this_ name, _Azumane Asahi_ ~!!!” Nishinoya yells, launching himself up into the starlit void, six wings beating rapidly and out of time, coming to tangle with a grand set of black ones, lost together in a space that is only theirs- far above the reach of the sparse clouds, just below the satellites that glint like meteors whizzing through the atmosphere. “I summon you~!”

“ _How_ did it take me this long to realise? Such a _convoluted_ , mix-matched plan, of _course_ it was yours…”

“I _knew_ it would get you out~ _Ah_ …” Nishinoya tells him, seeing the flicker of recognition pass through Asahi’s mind- _Hinata’s incompetence, my temper growing, palpable even through the barrier of living and non-living, of our bond- of our Souls, non-human and not rightly stowed in this pocket of the billions of galaxies…_ “How long have you been waiting?”

“Lifetimes- _lifetimes_ , Yuu…” His Soul is whispering, their wing beats settling into harmony, into their pattern. “You damned Angel, you…”

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

**One Moth Later…**

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

“So. _Su-ga-wa-ra_ …” Oikawa pronounces every syllable of his name, drawing it out with mischief in his eyes, “I _just_ got a call from Ushiwaka… _You_ wouldn’t happen to know who got out of the party and left a big-ass bloodstain in the lower ballroom, would you? Because, y’know, its _funny_ , I don’t _want_ to ask you because, _ha-ha_ , you told me you _left_ after seeing Iwaizumi disappear, but-”

“Shit- _alright_ , I-”

“Ah-ah, _well_. At least you admitted it, now _scurry_.” Taking any excuse to get out of Iwaizumi’s presence Suga stands from his seat, walking briskly to the door. His hand is just turning the knob when Oikawa hums. “I checked the tapes anyway and saw that… _Fight_ … You two had going on down there~”

“It _was_ a fight!” He defends himself, opening the door to the offices and giving Oikawa a sly middle finger on his way out.

“Didn’t look like one~!”

Closing the door behind him, Suga presses against it to avoid Kindaichi zooming down the passage, blathering at a million miles a minute, _“I don’t care where you are, Akira, I can’t just come and get you!! Do you know how much shit I’ll get in if I do?! And further more-”_. Suga has a hard time refraining from tripping the boy up. Truly a trying experience…

And, ultimately, Sugawara is a _weak_ man- _and_ , double as ultimately, Kindaichi is a fool who, to his credit, doesn’t make a noise as he staggers face first into the carpet, _“-Akira, I’m literally gonna die if I come to see you. Literally. I will have to die- no, I’m ‘not even gonna consider it’, fucker, you’ll have to kill me yourself- oh- no, no, nononono, don’t you dare come for me, I will fuck you up! Ak- no, Akira, listen. Listen. A-… Hello…?”_

_And speaking of trying experiences…_

“Makki, hands _off_ \- no fraternizing with the enemy.” He barks on his way past, pinching a piece of fruit out of the basked Matsukawa had brought in for his boyfriend.

“He ain’t the enemy, he’s _our_ hitman, you butthead.”

“Hm, losing your touch!”

“I have a hot man in my lap, I’m allowed to touch!!” Hanamaki hollers after him even though Suga has only paced a meter onwards.

“What?” He hears Mattsun drawl.

“What?” Is Makki’s eloquent retort, and they both shut up- undoubtedly back to making out.

“Shingeru!” Suga pauses at Kindaichi’s empty cubicle, leaning over the wall to meet the man’s eyes. “Got that date, tonight?”

In the next space down, Kyotani grumbles a swear word. The tips of the Detective’s ears go bright red- Suga can feel the heat for his flush from here.

“Stop trying to live in a sit-com, loser, and get back to work. Oikawa called you into his office to scold you for fight-flirting with Sawamura, not to promote you. And we have a new case. Chop chop.”

“Wow, since when did your boyfriend become so _demanding_ , eh, Kyo? Have fun with this one! Good luck tonight, be safe! Use a condom! Don't get anything on your clothes because Kuroo is a piece of shit!”

"Are you always such a dick?" Shingeru grinds out, "Or is Kuroo just that incompetent?"

"I wouldn't trust Kuroo with switching on my fucking desk fan, let alone my best dress!"

"Someone has to stop you, Sugawara Koushi, and if it must be me then so be it!"

“If you can’t let me live my life, Shingeru, I’ll make yours hell!!”

Another groused curse from Kyotani, and Suga is satisfied with his work. "Ask anyone in this office- I'm an asshole never to be crossed!"

“That he is!” Someone snarls further down the line of workers. It definitely wasn’t Kageyama. As much as the kid has grown, he doesn’t have the balls to call the wrath of a too-happy Sugawara Koushi upon himself.

So, if not Kageyama, it must’ve been-

“ _Oh_ , how my plans have come to… _Fruit-_ tion.” Suga stalks down the row of cubicles, tossing the nectarine up and down. From behind him, he hears Makki holler _“nice one, boss”_. Approaching the cubicle, Suga bites into the fruit, offering it like bait, cheese in front of a mouse hole, peeking it just around the divider wall. “ _Dear_ Daichi-san, and how you played _right_ in to my hands!”

“I still wanna fucking kill you.” Daichi smiles at him over the top of the cubicle, snatching the nectarine off of him and chomping down over the bite-mark.

“Staff training’s at eight, _honey_. And you’re gonna have to wait your turn,” He doesn’t bother turning around to meet Daichi’s snarl as he frisks away, dodging the man’s grabbing hands on his way to his cubicle, “There’s a line.”

"The blissful background noises of domestic love..." Yamaguchi dares to utter, getting a crow of appreciation from Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

 

-≤≥≤≥≤-≥≤≥≤≥-

 

I.H. 

[yas refreshing-kun~]

[Tooru i swear, get off my laptop]

[so creative, iwachannn~~~~ this idea is adorable, what colour is my soul~]

[Broken like your fingers r gonna be if u don't stop messing with my projects]

[awww, rude... your sentence structure isn't what it is without my intervention, iwa~~]

[I'll kill u]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holiday times, as a magical beautiful man would say: my guys gals and non-binary pals \o/  
> one more part of this series to come, which will be up in the next couple of hours~ then im on holidays [aka no internet for like a month bc traveling and lack of wifi (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

**Author's Note:**

> [and because im a sucker for this crap, here is everyone's Soul colours and connections woo  
> Asahi/Noya: Silver/Silver SAME SOUL  
> Kageyama/Hinata: Blue-Bronze/Red-Gold SOUL CONVERSE  
> Tsukishima/Yamaguchi: Gold/Black-Gold/Black SAME SOUL  
> Daichi/Suga: Red-White/Pink-White SIMILAR [TRI-COLOUR] SOUL  
> Kindaichi/Kunimi: Black-Purple/Black-Purple SAME SOUL  
> Kyotani/Yahaba: Green-Brown/Green-Blue SIMILAR [TRI-COLOUR] SOUL  
> Mattsun/Makki: Yellow/Purple SOUL CONVERSE  
> [Ushijima/Tendou: Purple-White/Purple-Red SIMILAR [TRI-COLOUR] SOUL and Kenma/Kuroo: Yellow-Red/Black-Red SIMILAR [TRI-COLOUR] SOUL bc i couldn't help myself]  
> and of course:  
> Iwaizumi/Oikawa: Purple-Blue/Pink/Blue SIMILAR SOUL


End file.
